The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior (19 page)

“Yes, I wish her to have a proper education.” He finished the biscuit, but now it felt like ashes in his mouth.

“That is very Christian of you,” the woman continued, as though he had done something incredible by taking her in.

No, I did something incredible and terrible not to know her before this, he thought.

“She should be grateful to you for the condescension,” Lady Townsend said, before turning her attention to one of the Miss Charleses.

“Don't mind my godmother,” Lady Lucinda said. “She has very firm opinions of what should and should not be done.” Marcus hoped she never ran across Miss Blake, because one of them would likely not survive. “But it does seem . . . unusual for you to have taken in a ward, so soon after your own arrival.”

“It is what had to be done,” Marcus said, deliberately not explaining precisely what he meant. He felt his jaw tighten. He did not want to be defending his decision to take in a child who had nowhere else to go, who had his blood in her veins, who needed him.

“Of course,” Lady Lucinda said in a placating tone, as though she knew just how irate he was getting. “Another biscuit?”

It is required of a duke—or any gentleman of good breeding and fortune—to ensure the title and fortune passes to a descendant upon the duke's demise. In choosing a bride, a duke—or any gentleman of good breeding and fortune—must look for a woman who possesses good breeding herself. Anything more she has to offer should be seen as bonus attributes
.

—T
HE
D
UKE
'
S
G
UIDE
TO
C
ORRECT
B
EHAVIOR

“Y
ou've already had five biscuits,” Lily said as Rose reached her hand out again. For the sixth time.

Rose halted mid-reach and regarded her governess with one eyebrow nearly raised. It seemed the duke's daughter already took after him. In the most arrogant ways, of course. “But I am hungry,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Then we can see what Mrs. Partridge might have in the kitchen. It is not good to subsist solely on biscuits.”

Rose shrugged. “I never had many before. Mama usually just gave me what she brought home.”

“Brought home from where?” Lily slid the plate of biscuits out of arm's reach.

“From the pub. She worked there. I stayed with Mrs. Tolliver when she worked, but she didn't have any girls my age. Just boys.” Her expression showed what she thought of that. No wonder she'd been so pleased to play with Mrs. Porter's children.

“And what did your mama bring home?”

That shrug again. “Food.”

Perhaps Rose was taking after Annabelle in the literal sense. But never mind the food, of course, what was more important was that Rose was talking about how she'd lived before without being questioned about it. Lily worried about the girl; she knew how hard it was to lose one's parent. In her case, she'd lost two, and even before her mother had died, it felt as though she was gone already.

It was what forced her to work at the brothel, and yet also what prepared her to survive by starting the agency. She hoped Rose would find some benefit as well in having suffered at such a young age.

“Mama always saved the carrots in the stew for me. I like carrots. And potatoes. And stew,” she added.

“I like all those things, too. We should ask Mrs. Partridge if she would make us stew sometime. Would you like that?”

“Mm-hm,” Rose said, her fingers reaching toward the biscuit plate.

Lily swatted her hand away. “Let's see if the kitchen has anything you'd like to eat—besides biscuits—and we will take a walk. Your father won't be home until dinner, I don't think.”

Rose nodded enthusiastically. “I like walking.”

Just like your father. Lily made a mental note to take Rose out as much as possible—she was thin and pale, and it didn't sound as though she'd had much chance just to be outside in the relatively fresh air.

Once outside, she took Rose's hand—the one not holding a warm piece of freshly baked bread—and the two of them walked to the small park where Lily presumed the duke had taken Rose before. It was cloudy but not showing signs of rain, and there was a mildness to the air that was refreshing after being indoors.

There were other governesses and children walking about as well, and Lily nodded to some of the other young women and their charges. It was so pleasant, she could imagine herself being happy at this position. It would make it all even better if the agency thrived because of this. Because of her.

“Will the duke keep me with him?” Rose didn't sound anxious about it, but it made Lily's throat tighten. That Rose had thought of it meant it had crossed her mind. Lily was startled at the ferocious response that unfurled inside her at the thought of him sending his daughter away.

It seemed he knew better than anyone what it felt like to be sent away, to be unloved. He couldn't do that to his daughter, could he?

“I am not aware of your father's plans, but it sounded as though he wished to get to know you. He would not have hired a governess for you if he planned to send you away, would he?”

“Maybe not. But that lady's girl, she said people were surprised he has me, and she asked me where I would go next. I told her I don't know.”

If Lily's throat had tightened before, it now felt as if it were strangling her. She cursed whoever had spoken about Rose in front of the children.
It didn't sound that the girl intended to be spiteful, but if there was talk so early on from Rose's arrival, it meant many people were talking. The duke had been correct in his thinking—he would have to find himself a respectable wife soon to stem the flow of gossip.

Keeping gossip from tainting Rose's future, that was the most important thing. She would have to remind herself of that. Frequently.

“A
nd how was your day, Miss Rose?” Marcus nodded at the footman, and the servant began to ladle soup of some sort from the tureen into his bowl.

“Good.” Rose was definitely not one for over-explanation.

They sat in one of the dining rooms, not the biggest one, which looked like it might seat all of London, nor the small one they used for breakfast, but the one in between. This room did not seem to have been touched by the same hand as the one that had decorated the pink room, thank goodness; the table was made of a dark wood, and the walls were done up in gold paper, with maroon drapes. It was very cozy, though, for all that it was still a rather large room.

Marcus had squelched Thompson's wish to have a full phalanx of footmen waiting on them—it seemed ludicrous to have more footmen than diners—so there were only two, with Thompson popping in every so often to cast a stern eye at his underlings.

“Perhaps you might share more details, Miss Lily?” His governess—well, not his, but the governess he employed—sat to his left, wearing another one of the gowns he must have purchased for her.

He was very pleased with himself about that, if he did say so. The gown was some sort of dark plum color whose richness brought out the equally rich tones of her hair, and contrasted with her eyes, which were golden in the candlelight. Not to mention, since it was an evening gown, it was cut lower than her normal gowns, and he was better able to view the slope of her breasts and the creamy whiteness of her skin.

She shook her head at the soup and took a sip of wine. “We went for a walk in the park so that Miss Rose would not eat all the biscuits.” She smiled at Rose as she spoke, and that warmth, the way the smile lit up her face, made Marcus momentarily lose his breath.

“I only had five,” Rose asserted, dipping her spoon into the soup.

“Six, don't think I didn't see you grab another one as we walked out,” Lily retorted. She met Marcus's gaze. “We saw many dogs, and children, and it seems that spring is on its way, finally. We'll be able to walk every day, as long as it doesn't rain. Miss Rose very much likes to walk.”

He turned his head to smile at Rose. “Can we walk tomorrow?”

“Mm-hm,” Rose returned, engrossed in devouring her soup as quickly as possible, it seemed. Marcus took a spoonful as well, and thought
about how much better it tasted than the biscuits at the earl's house, likely because of the company.

It felt homey to be here, just the three of them. He didn't think he'd ever felt so at home before. So comfortable in his surroundings, who he was with and what they were doing. Eating dinner. Taking walks.

Kissing her.

But that, he thought regretfully as he darted another glance at her décolletage, should not happen any longer. It should not. Despite certain parts of his body arguing vehemently with him about that decision.

He needed to avoid temptation. It wouldn't be fair, to her or the woman he would eventually choose for his wife, the one asked to tolerate having her husband's illegitimate child in the household. She shouldn't also have to tolerate having a young woman with whom he had . . . dallied with in the household as well. But she was so good with Rose—Lily, not the unknown young lady to whom he'd be married—and he would not tear Rose away from another woman she cared for, not so soon on the loss of her mother.

He would have to step back from the constant wanting, he told himself again, the wishing he could explore her creamy curves, her lush mouth, to know what she tasted like.

Thank goodness he wasn't actually asking himself to step back, because if he stood up, it would be obvious just what he had been thinking about.

So. He had to step back. Figuratively, if not literally. “I will be going out after dinner, ladies. Miss
Lily, you won't have to make your report this evening.” And he hoped he could remain strong the next time they met.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she murmured, nodding in response to the next course. Was it his imagination, or was there a brief shadow of disappointment in those hazel eyes?

“But we'll walk tomorrow?” Rose asked. “And maybe have another tea party?” The girl's eyes were huge and pleading.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Marcus said, leaning over to touch her cheek. “Our tea party was the best part of my day.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Lily said. “Mrs. Porter asked if Rose could come over again to play with the children. Would that be all right? Perhaps Friday?” She looked from his face to Rose's, her smile widening as she regarded her charge.

“Certainly. You like Mrs. Porter's children, then?” he asked Rose.

“Yes.”

Lily looked as though she wished to say something, then bit her lip and averted her gaze. Interesting. What was she hiding? Marcus wondered.

Was there a young man at the Porters, one who was more suitable, more handsome, less arrogant than him?

Well, he could safely assume that any man she would meet would be more suitable and less arrogant. He might have to quibble about the more handsome part, since he knew he was attractive to look at, he'd been told so many times in his fornicating past. But being handsome didn't
make him either more suitable nor less arrogant. Perhaps she'd told herself she had to step back as well.

Which just made him wish to follow her. Not what he should be wishing to do, not when he knew what he had to do. Not follow her. Not want her. Not do anything to her besides pay her salary and keep her at a distance.

H
e didn't need to have a report, or lessons in how to treat a lady every night, Lily reminded herself as she heard the front door close behind him. It was a good thing for her not to be in his presence in the evening, when Rose was put safely to bed. It was far too tempting to give in to his allure, to the charm underneath his blunt arrogance. To the want in his dark eyes, the way he touched her, as though she were both something precious and something to be thoroughly and completely handled.

She felt Rose's hand slide into hers. It felt wonderful, as though she was being useful, perhaps preventing this young girl from growing up to become an unfortunate woman. Rose would be one of the fortunate ones, as long as she herself could keep her head. “Shall we go up to bed? I can read you a nighttime story, if you like.”

Rose nodded, then tugged Lily's hand toward the staircase. The two of them walked up, silent but companionable, Lily knowing that this girl's safety and happiness was more important than any fleeting desire. Or not fleeting, since she
doubted she would ever forget him or what they'd done together.

In her room, Rose bounced on the bed, her hair flying everywhere, Maggie clutched tight in her arms. “He said we'd go walking, all of us, tomorrow. And another tea party!”

The girl was nearly as excited as Lily at the prospect. Not that she admitted her excitement; no, she was doing the opposite, instead reminding herself he was just a man, a handsome, witty, secretly charming, gentleman who was not for the likes of her. Even without her own unfortunate history.

“What would you like to read?” She had sent for a few children's books from the bookstore, since the duke's library did not include any. They'd gotten a collection of Perrault's fairy tales, which Lily recalled from her own childhood. Rose shared her taste in reading, much preferring the stories of dragons, fairies, and princesses to anything more mundane.

“Cind'rella,” Rose said, getting into the enormous bed and pulling the sheet up to her chin.

Oh, Cinderella, the story of the lowly girl and the prince? Nothing that could possibly relate to her real life, could it? Wasn't she supposed to be forgetting all of this?

But Rose had asked, and Lily wanted to share the joy of reading and imagination with her charge. So she opened the book, found the story, and began. “‘Once there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife,'” she began, losing herself within a few paragraphs to the magic of the story.

At last, after “‘Cinderella, who was no less good than beautiful, gave her two sisters lodgings in the palace, and that very same day matched them with two great lords of the court,'” Rose was asleep, and Lily felt exhausted herself.

It was tiring not to be thinking of things all the time, nearly as exhausting as it was to remember everything she was supposed to recall; such as making sure Rose didn't eat too many biscuits, that her lessons were balanced with fun (not forgetting the duke's directive that Rose find happiness as well as schooling), that she not speak too much of her own past, that she did the best job she could so her own reputation would eventually help the agency.

All worthwhile. Nothing as purely wonderful as being kissed by a duke.

She would just have to live with that.